1 Creationist-Dualism
Theistic Neo-Cartesianism
Joshua R. Farris
The present volume, The Origin of the Soul: A Conversation, has as its objective the aim to answer two questions. First, what is the soul (i.e., what many construe as an immaterial substance, property bearer of conscious experience) in relation to human nature (HN)? Second, where and when does the soul originate? In what follows, my goal is to advance a description, and some of the reasons that favor it, for what I construe as a creationist view of the soul or HN. Briefly, the creationist view I advance is a version of what some would call Cartesian substance dualism (SD)—although I remain open to the metaphysical nature of physical things. By SD, I take what is often referred to as common-sense dualism to be indicative of the world, i.e., that there are two types of property bearers that maintain a kind of ontic independence—body and soul.1 Additional specification supplied by the term Cartesian assumes that personal identity is essentially wrapped up in the immaterial substance (otherwise called the soul or the mind, i.e., person, mind, and soul are nearly synonymous terms) that is the primary property bearer of consciousness, qualia, and, more importantly as I see it, subjectivity.2 For all I know, physical or material things may be experiential datums of the mind or ideas, which would make the present case compatible with a kind of Cartesian idealism.3
I begin the argument for a Cartesian and Creationist view of persons with what is often called the transparency thesis (TT) (as the product of common sense where the contents of my mind are clear and apparent to me) in the tradition of Brentano, Roderick Chisholm, and J.P. Moreland. The entailment seems to follow from the TT of any ole’ mental thing w/phenomenal qualia to primitive immaterial persons (i.e., subject/person primitives), a unique causal explanation is required (namely, that the Creator agent must act in a unique mode when bringing about the existence of persons).4 Something like Divine creationism of souls is required (i.e., minimal theistic dualism), which does exclude physicalism and what I will call “obscure” dualisms (e.g., pan-experientialism, Russellian monism, and hylomorphism) but it fits under some versions of “natural dualism.” Accurately defining the nature of the subject with the capacity for conscious experience (S) requires that we move beyond phenomenal transparency (due to its falling into what is called the
gap problem between the substance of a thing that is generalizable and a subject of conscious experience) to subject transparency (hence a haecceity).
I will move in three steps toward a set of conclusions about my particular view of HN and human origins (HO). First, working within introspective dualism, I will advance a version of the primacy of the mental (which I extend to mean a subject of conscious experience) S, which requires, at a minimum, a property dualism of S and bodies and excludes HN views that require the non-TT of S properties. Second, I will argue that physicalism is obviously excluded, but, more importantly, what I describe as “obscure” dualisms presume or imply the non-TT, so they too fail to capture the metaphysics of the soul. Third and finally, I argue for what I have elsewhere called “emergentcreationism,” and for this reason, the view assumes some versions of theistic dualism and can be adequately captured under the category of natural dualism (i.e., any entity that has investigatable empirical consequences).5
The basic arguments, to be elucidated momentarily, are found in skeletal form, below
An Argument for Primitive Immaterial Subjects
1 The TT of phenomenal experience is directly available and accessible to the first-person perspective (FPP).6
2 Only a primitive “S” particular (i.e., subject of conscious experience) accounts for the TT because of the fundamental first-person powers that are non-multiply exemplifiable.
3 "Obscure” dualisms fail to have this fundamental power that is nonmultiply exemplifiable.
4 Therefore, “obscure” dualisms cannot account for the reality of the TT.
An Abductive Explanation: Creationism
5 Non-multiply exemplifiable an S is a bare particulars (or something near it)7 that are non-multiply exemplifiable (hence, non-duplicatable).
6 Only, an agent-cause (that has sufficient power) could bring about S’s directly.
7 Theistic dualism furnishes a frame for conceiving of an agent-cause with sufficient power to bring about an S directly.8
8 In the absence of any good causal explanation, theistic dualism (i.e., the view that God interacts with the physical world and provides a paradigm for mental-physical interaction) provides the best explanation for the origination of an S among competing explanations.
Substance Dualism as Natural Dualism (i.e., Emergent-Creationism)
9 Natural dualism of a metaphysical sort captures substances with powers and properties under the frame of that which is, theoretically, capable of being empirically investigated.
10 An S, as I have defined them, has certain powers and properties that are emergent (i.e., novel).
11 Hence, an S is capable of being empirically investigated.
12 Hence, furthermore, SD can be a form of natural dualism (a view about the relationship between minds and bodies).
Defining Terms
TT=transparency thesis: phenomenal consciousness reveals the nature of the mind.
ETT=entailment of transparency thesis: qualia imply a more fundamental feature of primitive immaterial persons.
FPP=first-person perspective: some knowledge about the physical world from secondary properties is given to the mind. I can think about them.
S=subject of conscious experience
• Private (that which is accessible only by the subject of conscious experience).
• Inner (that which is internal not external or spatially located).
• Self-presenting (a property that is directly available, accessible, or of which I have awareness).
• Intentional (the aboutness of my mental state).
• Some subjective states of consciousness have this S-set.
• No physical things have this S-set.
• S-set properties are not identical to a material substance.
SD=substance dualism: every person/subject who has experiences is an immaterial substance. An immaterial substance: (1) is essentially the person, (2) is foundational to the mental or conscious life, and (3) does not have many of the properties characterizing physical/material things.9
OD=“obscure dualisms”: those views that give primacy to the mental, yet either deny the TT or advance a position that implies a non-TT. Under this title, I include the following: pan-experientialism; micro-psychism; panpsychism; hylomorphism; and absolute monism.10
HN=human nature or the essence of what it means to be human is an abstract object (i.e., a compound property of a collection of properties essential to being human). In the case of humans as soul-body compounds, we address what it means to be a soul-body compound in relation to the nature of human beings.
HO=human origins. HO supplies a story for how it is that an HN is associated with an individual in addition to the individuative features.
An Argument for Primitive Immaterial Subjects
1 The TT of phenomenal experience is directly available and accessible to the FPP.11
2 Only a primitive “S” particular (i.e., subject of conscious experience) accounts for the TT because of the fundamental first-person powers that are non-multiply exemplifiable.12
3 “Obscure” dualisms fail to have this fundamental power that is nonmultiply exemplifiable.
4 Therefore, “obscure” dualisms cannot account for the reality of the TT.
The Primacy of the Mental
Working within the psychological tradition of personal identity in contrast to the animalist tradition,13 substance dualists often take it that thinking, consciousness, and other mental items are indicative or pointers to that with which we as humans are identified. And this for the simple reason that there is not any garden-variety physical object that we can point to and say that’s me! Instead, there is some essential core that makes us who we are at a time and across time—the immaterial center of conscious experience.
An initial definition of a basic subject is given by John Foster. He states,
We already know what conditions something has to satisfy to qualify as a basic subject: to qualify as a mental subject, it has to be something to which mental states or activities can be truly ascribed; and to qualify as a basic mental subject it has to be something which features as a mental subject in the philosophically fundamental account – something which is both ontologically basic and whose role as a subject of mental states and activities is not reducible to factors of a different kind.14
A basic subject is a mental subject or a subject of conscious experience. A fundamental account of the subject or self is what I am after in the following discussion, which begins in “introspective” dualism or common-sense dualism. Introspective dualism takes its starting point in what is most apparent and clear as indicative of what is true in reality (i.e., Descartes’ “clear and distinct ideas”) namely the FPP. Common-sense dualism is similar in that it takes its starting point from the most obvious, apparent deliverances of our reasoning about the world—namely that there exist differences between mental and physical things and that the contents of my mind are known better to me than the physical objects (i.e., Descartes’ idea that one knows her mind better than the existence of the material world). It is a given of our phenomenal experience that we know the contents of our minds better than the nature of the objects we perceive, hence the reason for beginning with consciousness when trying to ascertain the meaning of who we are.
The TT is the thesis that the contents of my mental life are more obvious than the contents of the physical world because in all my experience (and that of the scientist investigating the physical world) what I perceive precedes any understanding of the nature of that which is perceived. Hence it is consciousness that is the starting point for considering the identity and meaning of
subjects. For what it is like to experience the physical world, say the flower and all its properties, is basic. As Philip Goff describes TT as our direct phenomenal transparency. While Goff seems to think that even flowers have the property of what it is like to be a flower, I have no reason for assuming this position and find it wildly implausible.15
There is one key part of John Foster’s definition that is important and about which I am concerned when adequately assessing the TT. John Foster states: “it has to be something to which mental states or activities can be truly ascribed.” It is the qualifier of “truly” that is important here. What is it for qualities or properties truly to be ascribed? The aspect of subjects that makes each individual subject this subject and not that subject begins with introspection, according to the “introspective” tradition of SD. It is to this we turn as the vehicle for accurately understanding the nature of consciousness— hence, personal identity.
Building on the successes of “introspective dualism” (i.e., the argument that there are items of knowledge through direct acquaintance of the world and its objects that prefer a dualism of subject and the body), the TT holds that the unique nature of conscious experience is directly available to the conscious agent. Yet, the TT that we will consider in more detail below is often limited in its scope to phenomenal transparency and needs extending. When we extend the TT, it becomes clear that SD (or idealism) accounts for the TT in a way that “obscure” dualisms do not. TT, then, provides evidence for the primacy of the mental when determining the meaning and identity of subjects.
Primacy is used as a term to describe grounding relations in metaphysics. The relation of dependence between the grounded entity and that entity’s grounding is concerned with primacy. The primacy relation says that z is grounded in y, y is primary over z, and y metaphysically explains z. In the case of the primacy relation within consciousness, the mental is primary over the physical concerning consciousness and metaphysically explains consciousness.16 Considering the mental life of human beings, the TT is the most obvious fact about our experience of the world and supplies us with immediate FPP evidence for the primacy of the mental over the physical.
Common-sense dualism is important for defending the primacy of the mental over the physical concerning consciousness. Following Roderick Chisholm, John Foster, and others, when I enter into my conscious states of awareness, I am aware of the objects of the world before me in my perceptual states. I can actually pick out the various items in my field of awareness. I can introspect about those items and consider all the features or properties that each object has. When I enter into my states of awareness and consider all the items presented to me, I realize upon reflection that I am neither those objects nor the objects of my body that I, too, can reflect on as objects within the presentation of my consciousness (i.e., what is commonly called selfpresenting properties in the introspective dualism literature), which indicates the primacy of the mental existence over the physical and the properties of
the mental. I experience them as distinct from myself. The “natural” conclusion is that I am a distinct consciousness that is different from these objects.17
Considering the nature of color fits well here. The fact that I seem to have direct acquaintance with the color green in the grass that I perceive provides prima facie evidence that I, in fact, have the color of the green grass directly within the purview of my conscious field of awareness. I am aware of the green-colored grass and I have the power to access those properties directly in my conscious field. These properties, again, are called self-presenting properties describing the phenomena that I am directly acquainted with in my conscious experience, and such properties are ones I can further examine through introspection. These self-presenting sets of properties describe a set of properties for S. While they may not be the intrinsic properties of the grass itself, the point is that I have access to these properties via conscious experience. Clarifying the nature of the color green in grass is not to be confused with these self-presenting properties (where the grass appears greenly to me). Whatever one makes of the actual qualities of grass (i.e., primary qualities) as intrinsic to the grass and objectively the case in the world, this is distinct from the phenomenal qualia (i.e., secondary qualities or powers of objects that causally bring about effects in perceivers) although they may be causally related) of green in one’s perspective of it.
In order to move from prima facie to secunda facie justification of my conscious perception, I can investigate the properties further. By moving closer to the green grass, I can inspect it more closely to see if the properties of my conscious powers of perception are functioning properly. Further, I can speak with others to see if my experience of the green grass is the same as their experience of the green grass.18
This raises a distinct issue in the literature that needs addressing. The phenomenality argument is the argument that phenomenal qualia are basic, fundamental, and accessible to the mental life of individuals.19 This is commonly the view of contemporary philosophers. But it appears to me from my FPP that phenomenal qualia, while offering an avenue into the mind’s nature, fail to capture what is most fundamental in terms of the mind’s essence. There is an alternative feature or characteristic that seems to encompass more than the qualitative feel of color, taste, smell, or the hand-felt nature of grass when I touch it with my hands, namely subjectivity.
Subjectivity seems to be an apt descriptor of that which covers phenomenal qualia but encompasses additional features that get us closer to the essence of minds. This is true of other features of physical objects in the natural world that resist reduction like ideas, aboutness, and teleology within the physical world (all features or properties that require an explanation beyond mere machinery). Subjectivity captures qualia, but it also captures the place that I occupy (not to be confused with Descartes’s objective physical location), the perspective I have, the interpretive angle I take, the contribution that I make simply in virtue of the fact that I am me and not anyone else. If there is such
a thing as subjectivity as I have described it, then there is something that is more fundamental to mental nature than phenomenal qualia. The subject is prior to the general characteristic of the mind. For there are no generalized minds or properties of minds that are universalizable, but there are S’s (again primitive, i.e., souls with the capacity for consciousness, immaterial subjects of conscious experience).
Both qualia and the FPP presume something more fundamental about the properties of conscious experience. Implicit in the FPP is a substance or what philosophers have called bare particulars (i.e., those substances that have no properties in the abstract)—something like a pluripotent substance that gives rise to properties and powers. For it is these properties that depend on and are predicated of something in particular. That something I argue is a metaphysically simple substance.20 Following Quine’s dictum: “there is no object without identity,” which I will take as a basic fact, becomes mysterious when we apply it to persons.21 For persons, there are no physical parts with which we are identical. But the case is even more mysterious when there are no generalizable features or properties that describe me or make me me. Instead, there is a primitive fact that I am me—something like Chalmers’s primitive indexical fact.22 E.J. Lowe offers a helpful definition, when he says: “A noncomposite or simple substance—one that has no component parts—must, it appears, have no criterion of diachronic identity.”23 What is important here is the gap problem or tension that arises, once again, between the substance (as a generalizable thing) to an S (or a subject of consciousness). While a substance might depend for its functionality on a complexity of parts (i.e., a functional description, but the above is easily resolvable on a presentist or an eternalist account of parts), it does not entail that one’s identity depends on that same complexity of parts, and, in fact, the argument from replacement suggests just that fact about persons that we could lose the various parts of our body (and possibly all of the body) and remain the self-same existing entity, which means that any and all improper parts (possibly including the whole body) lost are non-essential to the identity of the self/subject, i.e., an improper part.24
Yet, the issue already alluded to is related to the argument for a simple substance from mereological replacement. What underlies the parts and properties is an actual substance that grounds them (the ETT). This particular that we are directly aware of and can access precedes even the properties in our minds. In other words, what makes sense of the properties of qualia is the S as a metaphysically simple substance, a primitive particular. Moving in this direction alleviates another concern prompted by SD.
According to Geoffrey Madell, the simple view of personal identity presumes the criterial gap issue.25 Accordingly, “A is F” and “I am F”; “persons are souls”; and “I am soul.”26 In other words, the generalizable terms always presume the gap between the objective and the subjective. Implied by this proposition is the “contingent truth issue,” which says that the truths that
we ascribe to the objective order of things involving persons always miss the more important primitive fact about those persons. Finally, all of this means that there is a problem with self-ascription. The uniqueness of the S’s consciousness is that there is never a way adequately or sufficiently to describe the person because of the primitive nature of selves. While the FPP and other generalizable facts may come close, they will always fail adequately to ascribe the sufficient feature(s) of the S due to the primitive fact about them.27
Apparent problems exist on Madell’s thesis. One apparent problem is that it is unclear if there is a substance present, which one might argue is a category problem for Madell. His intuition seems right, however, in part, because properties do not sufficiently describe persons, but an assay can be supplied by the person who appropriately refers to self. Another problem is that there is no way to determine that there is a substance of consciousness present beyond the epistemic fact of the FPP, but, again, this is an epistemic individuator and not a metaphysical individuator that fails to provide a sufficient causal explanation for the thing in question. Madell clearly believes that something exists, as a subject of experience is the most obvious thing in the world. However, a subject, as substance, is a rationally necessary entity that explains the qualitative experiences of individual S’s.
Further, there is some evidence in addition to what seems a rationally compelling reason to assume that there is a substance of a particular sort that grounds these properties of consciousness. In addition to the fact that there is some ground for qualia, there exist some phenomena in the world that are non-universalizable, i.e., they have no explanation apart from a primitive particular. Consider for example the fact about taste. In some cases, there is no further explanation grounded in one’s biology or in properties that account for one’s individual liking of certain tastes. There is no further analyzable fact that explains the fact that I might taste something different than another as the account for my not liking x or the fact that I taste x in the same way as another person but I just do not like x. The only fact that seems to ground this experience is the primitive fact about me, an S. To clarify, the principle of sufficient reason demands a rational explanation of substances and all properties in the world, including phenomenal qualities.
In keeping with the subjectivity argument, the above rationale prompts the question about the essence of S’s. There are two views open for consideration. One view, following Madell, is that there is no-essenced (or so this is how I am interpreting him) bare particular, which is consistent with the primitive indexical fact without a sufficient designator. The alternative view, and the one I am inclined to, is an individual-essenced bare particular (or a haecceity).28 I have already advanced some reasons that we actually believe that minds have this more fundamental fact. If so, then we have a primitive fact of the self, namely S’s.
The most obvious fact about the world is that my mind is transparent to me. This fact undergirds all other facts in the world. The ubiquitous nature
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is past, the temperature falls very rapidly, and one sees no more of these insects.
On February 4 we started to complete the circuit of the lake and reach Delgi by way of the Zegi peninsula. Our road lay across flat land, bordered by marshes and full of swamps and quagmires. Sometimes the marshes stretch a long way into the land, and long detours had to be made to avoid them. I saw yams for the first time in Abyssinia growing just above the swampy tracts in this region. We had to cross three rivers with rocky beds, which were made rougher and more slippery by loose stones. To add to our difficulties, our guide twice led us out of the right path, and once to a ford which was impassable for the donkeys. In this way we lost nearly three hours. At lunch time we sent the baggage-train on ahead of us. The latter part of the journey was over a beaten track, and gave us no trouble. We overtook the baggage animals and their escort just as they entered the undulating ground which forms the approach to the peninsula of Zegi. We pitched our camp near the shore of a little bay of which this promontory was the further boundary.
While we were on the road I received a scribbled note from Crawley, who told me that one of his soldiers was ill, had lain down and refused to move. I rode back at his request, and found the invalid under a tree. He said, “Leave me alone. I want to die.” It was evident at a glance that he was suffering from ague. The only remedy which we had at hand was chartreuse. I gave him a big “nip” of the cordial, and it had an excellent effect upon him. He was able to ride to the end of the journey, and was none the worse for the effort. I venture to commend this incident to the consideration of strict teetotalers.
The village near which we were encamped is that which is marked as Furje on Stecker’s map. The district affords a curious example of feudal tenure in Abyssinia. We had quitted Tecla Haimanot’s dominions, and the land on which our camp stood was under the control of a certain chief called Fituari[97] Ali, a feudatory of Ras Mangousha. He dwelt close to the town of Zegi, but had no jurisdiction within its boundary, though his lordship was valid in a region extending beyond the town to the Abai.
The chieftain had gone to attend the marriage of Ras Mangousha’s daughter, and had left his son in authority. So we sent a messenger with an escort to carry the news of our arrival to this young Habash with due formality. He brought back an uncivil reply to the effect that the Fituari’s son was absent, and if we wanted anything we had better go and find him. This was sent by his majordomo. While we were waiting for tea to be served, Johannes reported that the young Habash was approaching, and we saw him at a little distance attended by a band of followers, some of whom carried guns. Our interpreter asked what he should say to this truculent young man, and we bade him explain that we only asked leave to pass through the land, and should require nothing unless it were to purchase a little grain for our animals. We always sought to avoid trouble with the natives, and therefore impressed upon Johannes that he should show we wished to be friendly, and say we hoped the Fituari’s son would come and have a drink with us.
Johannes departed with his message, and presently we heard a great hubbub—many Habashes talking at once at the top of their high-pitched voices. We wondered what gave rise to so much excitement. Presently Johannes emerged from the crowd and approached us slowly. The young man’s answer was that he would speak with us when he had seen the King’s letter. Now, this permit and all our credentials had been dispatched on February 1 from Bahardar Georgis to Ras Mangousha that we might obtain his leave to travel through his territories beyond the Abai, and we did not expect our messenger to return until late on the following day
It was an uncomfortable situation. The Ras’s reply might be unfavourable. In that case we should be confronted by the necessity of retracing our steps over the whole of the toilsome journey by the lake side. We all longed to kick the tiresome coxcomb who was in our way, and went to dinner in a glum mood.
We were obliged to spend the following day (Feb. 5) in inaction awaiting the return of our messenger with Ras Mangousha’s answer. I busied myself with the camera, having every reason to believe that no photographs of this tract of country had ever been taken.
During the morning we received a visit from the head man of Zegi. We thought it a favourable sign that he gave us a very pleasant and courteous welcome. This young man, Hyli by name, was about nineteen years of age. I learned afterwards that he was studying the ancient Geez language under the tuition of the priests of Zegi, and presume that he intended to “go into the Church.” These candidates for orders are not permitted to smoke or drink strong liquor while they are in statu pupillari. A similar restriction would scarcely be popular in our own ancient universities.
Hyli, we found, had a large consignment of coffee to send to the market at Gallabat. It is his business to collect the dues payable on this produce before it leaves the village, and the revenue so obtained is handed to Ras Mangousha. Hyli had now come to request that his caravan might join ours during the journey through the “raincountry”—that borderland between Abyssinia and the Soudan, which, as I have said, is infested by bandits. We had every reason to win friends where we could, and every wish to please the young Habash, so we consented willingly. He told us that the coffee was already at Delgi, and that he had been informed of the date of our arrival at that village, at Korata and at Woreb, and had been looking forward to our coming for a month past. In the evening he sent us a present of flour and fowls.
After this visit, I walked to the township of Zegi. It is surrounded by a thick hedge of incense-bush, and this forms the boundary between the Fituari’s jurisdiction and Hyli’s. Zegi very closely resembles Korata. It consists of groups of tokhuls scattered among small, square enclosures where the coffee bushes grow apparently untended. These plantations, with the cottages and churches among them, cover the whole promontory. I should estimate the population, when I saw the place, at about three thousand souls.
Dr. Stecker’s account of his visit to the town is brief and interesting, and I quote it. I saw nothing of the stone dwellings which he describes, and think they must have been replaced by straw tokhuls since 1881. He wrote:—
“On June 7 I made a tankoa-journey to the peninsula of Zegi, and climbed to the highest peak, Tekla Haimanot (2074 metres above sea-level, according to barometrical measurement), which afforded extremely important survey-bearings.” The traveller then mentions his visit to Livlivo, Adina, and the island of Dek, and adds, “The Zegi peninsula is especially famed for its coffee plantations. Some coffeetrees are as much as a metre in girth. The coffee is mostly exported to Metemmeh” (Gallabat), “less goes to Massowah, but it is not considered so good as that of Korata. Besides coffee the Ensete banana flourishes here conspicuously, and also the edible species (Musa Ensete edulis); but, unfortunately, in recent years these charming plantations have been almost entirely destroyed by a species of pig called Assama (potamochoerus penicillatus),[98] which is found here in hundreds. This remarkable animal feeds almost entirely on the roots of these fine bananas. What struck me here particularly was the neatness of the tokhuls, which are chiefly of stone, and in general all villages on Lake Tsana have a much cleanlier and more pleasant appearance than those inland. There is no lack of clergy on the Zegi Peninsula: there are here no fewer than seven churches with twelve hundred priests and defterers.”[99] I am bound to say that I saw no indication during my brief stay that the population was deplorably priest-ridden!
I was returning to camp about four o’clock in the afternoon, and was still at some distance from it when I met a Habash, who made me understand by signs that our messenger had brought the Ras’s letter, and as I hastened on I noticed that the news was already public property. Upon reaching camp I saw our man, grimy and travel-stained. He and a companion, with one mule to ride, had covered about a hundred and thirty miles in four days over very rough country, and they had waited while the Ras attended to our business; so they had not let the grass grow under their feet. I felt sorry for the mule. Walda Mariam had had charge of this business. We had given him one day’s rest at Bahardar Georgis after his return with Tecla Haimanot’s message, and then dispatched him on this second journey. It is expected of these runners, when they are in charge of a missive from the Negus or a great chief, that they shall
not sleep till they have delivered it. The man bowed low, and handed the Ras’s letters to me in a manner which showed that he now made me responsible for their custody. I then learned, by the aid of an Arab interpreter, that the chief’s reply was of the most favourable kind, and that he had sent mandates to all concerned to give us every furtherance on our way round the lake. He also inquired very courteously about our health and our progress, and had sent a soldier from his own guard as a special escort for the party. The Ras, moreover, had even furnished us with letters to chiefs through whose lands we should not pass on the road to Delgi, to be used in case we wished to turn aside from the way and visit the hinterland of the lake district. And, best of all, there was a communication addressed to Fituari Ali’s son, enjoining upon him that he should show us every civility. Johannes, who had been absent from camp when the messenger arrived, had returned by the time my companions came back from an excursion. The despatches were then interpreted to them in French, and we enjoyed the prospect of our enemy’s discomfiture. It was resolved that the mandate to him should be delivered on the following morning. I noticed that the Habashes did not appear to make common cause with Ali’s son, but seemed pleased at our success. Among the Ras’s letters was one to Hyli, which we sent to him immediately, though it was scarcely required in his case. Zody was the bearer of it.
CHAPTER XI
F the 6th was a market-day in Zegi. In the morning we mounted our mules and went to visit St. George’s Church. Hyli was studying in the theological school attached to this round, thatched place of worship, which resembled in all respects the others that we had seen in the country. When the Chief Priest had received a suitable offering, our Abyssinian friend took us to his house, and here, for courtesy’s sake, we were obliged to drink tedj—a vile, bitter draught. We had escaped it on other occasions. The composition of it has been mentioned elsewhere. Hyli was very anxious that we should stay and eat a meal with him—doubtless it would have consisted chiefly of raw meat smothered with red pepper and sour teff bread—but we managed to excuse ourselves from this ordeal. On our way back to camp we passed through the market-place, which was now thronged. I do not know whether any European had been seen there before; but in any case we were objects of the utmost curiosity, and the people pressed around us so thickly that we had a difficulty in making our way through them.
In the afternoon I returned to the market for the purpose of obtaining snap-shots. It is held on the top of a stretch of rising ground, under the shadow of some half a dozen big trees. Under each tree was a large stone. On market-days a priest from each of the different churches stands on the stone allotted to his parish. These men are striking figures, clad in their ecclesiastical vesture, of which a large white turban and a shama with a broad red border are the conspicuous features. The parishioners from the different districts squat around their pastor near the stone, and the priest takes tithe in kind upon the spot when any member of his flock completes a purchase or a sale. Our people bought some grain and two sheep. The ruling prices were: for an ox (without the hide), seven shillings; for a sheep, two shillings.
MARKET DAY AT ZEGI.
See p 162
In one of the photographs which I obtained, the curious plaits in which the married women wear their hair are clearly shown. Stern thus describes the manner in which the coiffure is preserved from disarrangement at night. “The woman whose hair has undergone the tedious process of plaiting, must also have it protected from becoming dishevelled while she sleeps; and as this cannot so easily be done in a country where a bullock’s hide or a mat forms the bed, necessity has contrived a bowl-shaped stool, in which the neck is
wedged. In Abyssinia, where the women are particularly proud of their copper-coloured charms, very few, even on a journey and with fifty pounds weight on their backs, will forget to take the wooden pillow and the hollow grease-filled gourd,” from the contents of which the hair is “dressed.”[100]
I purchased a leopard’s skin in the market for a dollar, but it was not a good specimen. During the afternoon I received a visit from another Abyssinian artist, who presented me with two pictures in return for a black lead-pencil and a part of a blue one. And I had a constant stream of patients, who claimed attention very freely. I am bound to say that the maladies from which the majority of them suffered fully justified the allegation of Dr. Stecker, to which I have already referred.
The letter from the Ras to the Fituari’s son was delivered early in the morning. In the evening we heard that no sooner had he received it than he disappeared, and nobody seemed to know his whereabouts. No doubt it was his intention to declare afterwards that he had not been in the village when we arrived. If his conduct came to the Ras’s knowledge, I have little doubt the vainglorious youth was flogged—this has been the penalty inflicted on other Habashes who have shown rudeness to travellers provided with the King’s safeconduct letter.
Our tents at Zegi were in a pleasant position, under a spreading fig tree; these trees are found throughout Abyssinia and in the “rain country,” and give abundant shade. I have never seen them growing thickly, in a clump.
We made an early start on the morning of February the 7th, and trotted ahead at a good speed, as the donkeys were very fresh after their rest. The country is similar to that which we traversed in approaching Zegi. At eleven o’clock we reached the bank of the Abai. At the ford where we were to cross, it is a broad river, more than a hundred yards in width, as I should judge. The water was running in a fairly rapid current, and I was told that the stream is perennial. The banks of the river are steep, and the bed is stony. The water, at that season of the year, was almost clear. But during the
rains, when the stream is in flood, it brings down vast quantities of the deposits of the white ants and other detritus. The flat island of Dek has been formed by siltage of alluvial soil thus brought, and it is matter in solution which renders the course of the Abai traceable in Lake Tsana.
At the ford we found that the water came just above a man’s knee. The crossing gave us little trouble, and there was no serious mishap. The larger loads and our valises—of the “Wolseley” pattern —were wetted, but the sun soon dried them. One donkey collapsed, and fell with his burden into the stream about two yards from the further bank; but there were many to help, and he was soon put on his feet again. He was not carrying anything which would be ruined by a soaking. The rise beyond the ford was steep, and the drippings from the wet animals made it slippery, so we had to throw earth on it to give them a foothold, as in crossing the Gelda.
After passing the Abai, we entered a flat district full of the long dry grass, of which we had seen so much on the north side of the lake. The country hereabouts is full of the kind of gazelle called oribi. We had not elsewhere in Abyssinia found these creatures in herds. Game birds abound in this region, which appeared to be almost deserted. We passed scarcely any villages, and those which we saw consisted of only five or six huts.
Our camping-ground was an open space not far from a papyrus swamp. We should not have selected this spot by choice, as the proximity of marshy soil was a danger to health. But we were obliged to halt there because no water was to be had for a considerable distance on the road ahead. All around were ruins of houses built of stone, with thatched roofs that had fallen in. The number of them showed that a town or a large village must have existed here at one time. Stone dwellings are not usual in this region, and I inquired what the name of the place was and tried to learn its history, but could get no information.
Dupuis and Crawley went out with their rifles, and added three oribis to the store in the larder. I stayed in camp “on duty,” and after treating a patient sat reading outside my tent. My servant rushed up
to me, and said that I was wanted to shoot a snake that had crept under some brushwood. I hastened to unpack my gun and ran after the boy, and soon came to where our men, in a state of great excitement, had formed a cordon round a patch of dry grass, to which they had set fire. Finally the snake came out, and all our fellows shouted at it. They were in mortal terror of it, as a fact, and certainly it looked “an ugly customer.” It was too big to be stopped by shot unless I could make sure of hitting it in the head, and this I was not able to manage before it crawled under a saddle belonging to one of the soldiers. The saddle was lifted by the aid of a long pole, and in a moment the snake’s head was smashed by the same means. I measured it, and found that it was just over two yards in length. The back was brown and the belly white, and the skull had the typical shape of the adder family. Generally speaking, we saw fewer reptiles in Abyssinia than we had expected.
After this incident, I strolled round the camp with my gun, and presently noticed a little grey animal scampering among the stones of a ruined house. It was of the same colour exactly as the stones, but presently I believed I could discern an eye, and, being anxious to ascertain what creature it was, took aim and fired. I walked up to the spot but found nothing, looked around and wondered how the animal could have vanished. At the moment I heard the rustling of a leaf beyond the tumbledown wall on the left, and, guided by the sound, discovered the animal just dead. It was a specimen of the hyrax—an interesting creature to biologists, which Huxley described as “the type of a distinct order, in many respects intermediate between the Ungulata, on the one hand, and Rodentia and Insectivora on the other.”[101] It is found only in Syria and Africa. I thought the skin worth preserving, and one of the soldiers flayed it for me.
On Sunday, February 8, our road lay, for the most part, at some little distance from the lake, which was out of sight till the end of the journey. We plodded on through long grass and past burnt patches. The track is only about a foot wide, and in consequence the loads of the donkeys extended beyond it on either side. When they were among the tall growth they had to sweep it aside from their burden as they went, and this tired them greatly
We reached the edge of the lake at two o’clock, after an unbroken journey of six and a half hours, and pitched our camp. About two hundred yards from the shore five hippos were standing, well clear of the water. They looked for all the world like rocks, even when we brought field-glasses to bear on them. After lunch Crawley had the Berthon boat put together, and I rowed him towards the hippos. When we were within a hundred yards of them, I considered that the range was quite short enough to give the marksman an opportunity of displaying his skill, and he got no nearer. He began practice at once, but the boat was pitching rather sharply, and this made aiming with the rifle almost chance-work. Presently the sport became like firing at disappearing targets, for the hippos rose only once in two or three minutes to breathe. If they had taken my friend seriously, we should probably not have left Lake Tsana, and I felt relieved when he had had enough of the pastime and we rowed ashore.
Various small offerings of milk and bread reached us from the hamlets around. The milk is always sour. The Habashes do not drink it when it is fresh, and as a consequence they never wash the gourds in which they keep it, because it “turns” sooner in a dirty receptacle. At a few places we were able to have the cows brought into camp, and stored the milk in our own vessels, but this was impossible when we only remained one night on a camping-ground.
That evening Johannes, the interpreter, had a touch of fever. On the previous night his tent had been close to the papyrus swamp, and this, no doubt, accounted for the attack.
On the following day, February 9, our road lay through more broken country and more pleasing scenery. The track led us up hills, and down them, and between them, and sometimes close beside the lake. I saw no trees in this region but mimosas; the ground was covered in places by mimosa scrub, in others by dry grass. We made a march of seventeen miles, as we reckoned, a longer distance than we had travelled on the previous day. The donkeys were tired out at the end of the journey. Some stood still and refused to move, others lay down under their burdens in the path. We camped on the shore of the lake, at a spot very similar to that which we had chosen for our last halting-place.
The interpreter’s fever had yielded considerably to the usual quinine treatment, and he seemed very little the worse for his long ride in the heat.
In the evening the wind rose and presently blew hard enough to make me wonder whether my tent would collapse or not. I observed that very soon enough wash was knocked up in the deeper water to stop the headway of a rowing-boat. The lake would be a perfect place for fishing and sailing in the dry season. But without experience and watchfulness, risks would arise—quite apart from the humours of the hippopotami.[102]
On Tuesday, February 10, after a journey of about twelve miles through tall grass that impeded our baggage-train, we reached the village of Delgi, and pitched our camp upon the same ground which we had chosen for our first halting-place beside the lake. To the best of my belief, we were the only Europeans who had ever completed the circuit of this lovely reservoir of the Nile—the distance in all is one hundred and sixty to one hundred and seventy miles. Those who love regions beyond the outposts of our civilization, where the tourist ceases from troubling, could not seek isolation amid sweeter surroundings than this sunlit lake, these tropical mountains, and the quaint, quiet hamlets of a primitive people, who as yet, thank Heaven, have not been infected with “Yankee hustle.”
The level of the surface of the water had sunk perceptibly since we were here a month ago, and many rocks were now visible which had then been covered. But I do not think the variation between the maximum height in the rainy season and the minimum in the dry is very great; I doubt if it exceeds eight or ten feet.
At midday we noticed that the climate into which we had come in the north-west corner of the lake was distinctly warmer than that of the other parts. We remembered the Soudan, towards which our faces were set, and knew that in the heat there we should think longingly of the waterside, in spite of all the worries inseparable from travelling in Abyssinia.
The “Sultan” of Delgi came to camp to welcome us as soon as he heard of our arrival. It was pleasant to meet this cheery, genial old
Habash again, and his visit put us in good spirits. He brought us a couple of chickens and some bread, and we showed our hospitality by offering him chartreuse. He drank half a pint at a draught without “turning a hair,” seemed none the worse for it, and wanted more. A man who remains sober after that performance must have a sound head and a strong body, but I do not recommend even the hardiest of my readers to attempt the feat. The Abyssinians who survive have inured their stomachs to excesses of abstinence from food as well as gluttonous excesses, an unwholesome and repulsive diet and the abuse of condiments, and they have constitutions à toute épreuve I may mention that the children, who would be the first to suffer from bad climatic conditions, and the women seemed, as a body, fairly healthy, though they eat raw flesh like the men and suffer from the consequent parasitical trouble.
Nothing was mentioned or seen of the “Deputy” who had tried to prevent us from reaching the lake. But we made kindly inquiry for the “Sultan’s” wife, who had shown us goodwill and sent us bread and tedj on our first arrival, and were glad to hear that the lady was in good health. At nightfall we saw that the grass was blazing in two places, and it was interesting to observe with what extraordinary swiftness the flames ran over the ground when the breeze from the lake fanned them.
INTERVIEWING THE SULTAN OF DELGI.
See p 170
THE SULTAN OF DELGI, AN OLD PRIEST, AND SLAVE CARRYING THE SHIELD.
See p 170
We had determined to show our liking for the “Sultan” by treating him handsomely when we gave the customary presents. He came into camp next day (February 11) as soon as we had finished breakfast, and we arranged the gifts on the table. They were a revolver, a folding-chair, a bottle of chartreuse, and a red silk cummerbund for his consort. He appeared to be well pleased and thanked us, through Johannes, with all the formalities of the country. We suggested that he should come for a row in the Berthon boat, but he backed out of this immediately. Then he had his new folding-chair carried to the shore, and sat there surrounded by his bodyguard, a force which would have had a great success in a pantomime. He followed our movements with much interest while we put the boat together, but he was plainly apprehensive when Crawley tested in still water the electric current-meter which he had used in calculating the outflow from the lake into the Blue Nile. It made a buzzing noise, and I think he suspected that it might “go off” at any moment. He
remarked that it was a watch for the water, but he soon retired, followed by his comedians under arms.
Everything in camp that could be cleaned in water was washed in the lake during the day, and the ground near our tents looked like an improvised laundry. It was strewn in all directions with articles spread out to dry. Those boys who had no change of garments, stayed in the water while their clothes were aired in the sunshine, and enjoyed it.
Both Christians and Mussulmans received an ox on this day in order that they might make biltong for the journey We bought flour and grain and sheep and fowls, and laid in as large a stock of provisions as we could carry for use in the uninhabited borderland between Delgi and Gallabat.
February 12 was our last day beside Lake Tsana, and the prospect of leaving it filled me with regret. The “Sultan” came into camp again, and in answer to one or two questions gave us the following information: that the rainfall on the margin of the lake in the wet season is not great; the heavy rains descend upon the heights around, and the floods are carried down the rivers and khors in overwhelming torrents, so that all the watercourses are then impassable. This circumstance, of course, has a very important bearing on the possibility of a commercial development of the region.
Before quitting the subject, I will bring to the reader’s notice Dr Stecker’s thoughtful conclusions as to the present relation of the River Abai to Lake Tsana:—
“I made another extremely interesting discovery in the Gorgora mountains, viz. of a remarkable shell, which by its character reminds one of the oyster.[103] We found both the shells and the living creatures in abundance on the shore. With lemon juice they taste like genuine oysters. But it is remarkable that I had already found this species in the Blue Nile, and that I found it later on the island of Dek, enclosed in unmistakable volcanic rock (tuff). I can only offer this explanation, that, at a time when Lake Tsana already existed, a great eruption took place in the south. According to my view the lake had its origin in tertiary times as a consequence of a great volcanic
movement in the north (at the Gorgora range). The Abai, which was previously an unimportant stream, and described the great curve which is indicated on my map by arrows, and now carries it round Dek and Dega, was forced in consequence to the south-western and southern shores, though its original course can still be traced quite distinctly. The second volcanic movement took place, according to my opinion, in the south, and the islands of Dek[104] and Dega in Lake Tsana owe their origin to it, as do a whole series of islands beside the eastern shore of the lake and the masses of rock of volcanic origin which encumber the course of the Blue Nile and lie scattered in the whole valley of that river.”[105]
The moon was full that night, and the lake and the mountains formed a glorious scene, which left in the mind a longing to behold it again. Lake Tsana has that haunting, attractive power which some places possess, and which prompts one to return to them in spite of all that commonsense says about obstacles and discomfort.
On February 13 we made an early start upon our return journey to the Soudan, and reached the top of the plateau at half-past ten. We saw nothing, after all, of Hyli’s men; I did not hear why they failed to join us. As we now retraced our steps over the same ground that we had traversed on the way to the lake, I shall not give any detailed account of our progress. In one day’s journey we covered a distance which had given us an arduous two days’ climb on the upward march, and we came again into the region of the Soudanese heat. The sequence of vegetation according to altitude was strikingly apparent during the descent. Throughout the first half of it we were in the cactus country, then in the bamboo zone, and, finally, among the mimosas and desert scrub. The heat proved trying to man and beast. We Europeans felt fagged and dull; I had three fever patients among our followers in the evening; and the donkeys straggled into camp jaded and spent.
An incident of the journey will show the nature of the road. A little while after we had passed the long and narrow gorge which has already been described, I caught sight of my valise and some other luggage stacked on a bank. Upon asking why it was there, I found
that the donkey which had carried the load had slipped from the path and had fallen and rolled about ninety or a hundred feet. The beast seemed none the worse for the adventure, and the boys were bringing up the baggage piecemeal from the ledge which had stopped the donkey. I have no doubt that its burden saved it; a rider might have performed the same service if his remains had kept in place. A mirror and a candle-globe which “accomplished the descent” were not injured.
In spite of the steepness and roughness of the path—the mountains are genuine sierras (saws)—I believe that no great trouble and expense would be needed to make this approach to Western Abyssinia easy and safe, but it would be impossible for camels.
On the following day we reached the banks of the River Gerar, on which there is a thick growth of bamboos. Many of these had fallen across the track. We were not so much impeded by them as we should have been but for our previous experience of this part of the road. We sent men ahead with axes to clear the path as well as they could. In the evening we lost one of our baggage animals for the first time; two donkeys fell on the road exhausted. We left them while we moved on into camp, in the hope that they would recover. One was brought in later, but the other was found to be in such a helpless and pitiable state that nothing remained but to put it out of its misery, and it was shot. Our camp was beside the hot springs which have already been mentioned. We found in the neighbouring huts apparently the same company that we had seen on the upward journey. I was not able to learn anything about the people.
On the following day we left the valley of the Gerar, crossed a high ridge, and then followed the course of the Shemal Warhar. When we reached the place where we had pitched our camp before, we found the trees charred and the ground blackened by fire. There was no shade, and the water in the pools was very low. So we marched about three miles to another camping-ground called Ananta. Here water and shade were plentiful.
On February 16 we reached the bank of the Gundar Warhar. From midday till three o’clock the thermometer showed a temperature of 98° F. We had now entered the region in which robber bands are active. On the 17th we passed two parties of traders and heard from them our first news of the world outside Abyssinia. This was that Slatin Pasha had arrived at Gallabat on a tour of inspection. We thought of Gallabat—by contrast—as a centre of civilization. Our halting-place was a pleasant, shady spot beside the river-bed, in which water was abundant. In the afternoon Crawley shot a waterbuck. I secured a much smaller prize in the form of another civet-cat. We heard that a large crocodile had been seen in a pool about two hundred yards from camp, but saw nothing of the beast. At night we were much plagued by mosquitoes and the beetles which swarm on one and do not bite, but are malodorous in death—a most perplexing pest.
On the 18th the temperature rose to 101° F. in the shade. We made a short march, but one of our donkeys succumbed and had to be left for the vultures. We found that the grass about our former camping-ground had been trodden down and a part of it burned. The water, too, was much lower in the pools, the dry season being now far advanced, though it was still abundant to meet all the requirements likely to arise in that country before the rains. At this time of the year the trees cast their leaves, so that there is much less shade along the track. On the 19th we reached the “warsha,” which is the first from Gallabat on the road to Abyssinia and the last on the return journey The ground was in a filthy state, and it was evident that many people had encamped at the place since we left it. Water was plentiful; it was drawn from a deep pool. To our horror, just as we had settled to rest in our chairs, we saw some of our boys and camp-followers washing their persons and their clothes in the water which we were to drink! One of them was a leprous trader. We raised some first-class trouble about this, and posted a sentry by the pool. But all we could do was to boil and filter the water thoroughly—and think of the other people who had bathed in it since we last tasted it. On Friday, February 20, we arrived at Gallabat.
I will not dilate on the traveller’s delight in seeing again a batch of envelopes addressed to him in familiar handwriting. It is one of the pleasures which is becoming rare, but a trip into Western Abyssinia still provides an opportunity for it. In the town I met the Doctor of Kassala. He was then making a tour of inspection with the object of discovering cases of leprosy. The Egyptian Government has wisely ordained that lepers shall be compulsorily segregated; there is a hospital for them at Gallabat, which serves as a receiving station. An attempt is being made to form a colony of these stricken people, where they may cultivate the land and live by their labour
The water which we had drunk at “Warsha No. 1” punished us rather severely for our rashness. And while suffering from this inward infirmity, I saw the camels that were waiting to wreak their eccentricities upon us during the remainder of the journey. It was our intention to follow the upper course of the river Atbara through Sofi to Kassala. This was formerly a frequented route, but the Dervishes had destroyed all the villages that stood beside it, and, as a consequence, the disused track had become impassable. It was then being repaired, but the work was still some way short of completion, and it seemed that we might be compelled, after all, to return as we had come by the road through Gedaref. However, our chief telegraphed to Mr. Flemming, asking him to send a gang of men, if possible, to the spot where the track was in the worst condition, and this he did. So we were able to carry out our plan, and had the satisfaction of being the first travellers who journeyed by the repaired highway from Gallabat to Kassala.
On February 22 we paid off the escort and followers who had gone into Abyssinia with us. Johannes received as presents a revolver and a watch, the others a gift of money. We found that nearly all preferred a settlement by means of drafts on Colonel Harrington at Addis Abbiba. If they carried cash through the “rain country” they would run a great risk of losing both their money and their lives. Before we bade farewell to Johannes, he told us that we had on one occasion, unconsciously, been in no small danger in Abyssinia. At a certain village a rumour was spread that King Menelek had sold the lake to the British. The supposed transfer was
by no means to the taste of the Habashes—and we represented the English interest. Disregarding the niceties of French grammar, Johannes remarked that he had beaucoup de peur at the time. In our case ignorance was bliss.
On this day we said good-bye to Zodi. He had decided to return to his own country with Johannes. We all wished that he could have finished the journey with us, but felt that we should not be justified in discharging him finally in a country where he was ignorant of the language. He took his leave of us, bowing to the ground and addressing us in his own tongue. His face bore an expression which it is difficult to describe; he was showing his spotlessly white teeth in a smile, but he was half crying nevertheless. I have always wished that I could have engaged him as my servant. He was an excellent and faithful lad, and I believe that he did us valuable service when we were near Zegi, and the Fituari’s son was inclined to give trouble. Zody, as a native of the lakeside (Korata), was able to influence his neighbours on the opposite shore when a Habash from another district might have been disregarded or set at naught.
My two companions went out with their rifles in the afternoon, and there was no slight commotion in Gallabat when they were heard firing at antelopes in the distance. During our absence, as I have already mentioned, an Abyssinian band had raided two villages and carried off thirty-eight men and boys into slavery. The noise of the discharges made the natives think that the slave-raiders were at their work again. The very serious political consequences which these incursions will certainly cause sooner or later have been alluded to before.
It may interest my readers, if, before saying the last word about Gallabat, I give a brief account of the battle which took place there in March, 1889, between King John of Abyssinia and the Dervishes. Perhaps no incident in modern history so strangely combines the oriental and the mediæval atmospheres, or so oddly illustrates the effect of weapons of precision in warfare of the biblical type. A detailed narrative has been given by Mr. Augustus Wylde.[106]
The Dervishes had invaded Abyssinia in 1887, at a time when the forces of the Negus were scattered. They defeated Tecla Haimanot and devastated the region to the north of Lake Tsana. In 1888 they renewed the invasion, but in the meanwhile the King of Godjam’s army had been reinforced and his troops had been rearmed. The Dervishes suffered a severe defeat. The Negus completed his preparations in the winter of 1888-9, and gave notice to the Khalifa of his intention to march upon Omdurman. The Dervishes massed about seventy thousand men at Gallabat, where they occupied a large zareba which was protected by a dyke and some redoubts. They also had artillery in the fort where the scorpions have now become so formidable. But they were badly supplied with smallarms, whereas King John’s men had a plentiful stock of effective rifles of a French pattern.
The Dervish position was surrounded by the Abyssinian army. The Khalifa’s men were crowded in their enclosure, and, owing to its construction, could not fire from it without exposing themselves. The Abyssinian marksmen did terrible execution, and finally a body of King John’s horse, supported by a hot rifle-fire at short range, burned the thorns of the zareba at several points and filled up the ditch. The position was then “rushed,” and only a few of the Dervishes, aided by the smoke and the confusion, escaped.
“Facing King Johannes’s bodyguard,” says Mr. Wylde, “one small redoubt, strongly fortified and held by the black slave soldiers of the Dervishes, still held out, and their rifle-fire was doing some execution. The King, getting angry that it had not been taken in the rear by the troops that had entered the sides of the fortifications, and who were engaged in plundering, went forward to attack it with his followers. The gaudy dresses worn by his staff, with their silver shields and the bright silks, drew the fire of the defenders. King Johannes was struck by a bullet that traversed the lower part of his arm and entered the intestines near the navel, taking into the wound a part of his dress. He still gave orders, and kept on the field till the redoubt was rushed and those in it all killed.”
The King died about twenty-four hours after he was wounded. Quarrels with regard to the succession immediately commenced
among the Rases, and instead of following up their victory, they retired at once into Abyssinia with their captives and plunder, in order to serve the interests of their respective factions.
“On the 11th, in the afternoon, old Ras Areya, the King’s uncle, a man nearly eighty years of age, who had played a wonderful part in Abyssinian history, was left with a few followers to bring back the King’s body for burial. The body had been cut in half so that it could be carried more easily, and was put in a clothes-box so that it could be laden on a mule. Only a few of the King’s devoted servants remained behind, with a few priests and their armed servants. On the 12th, while following the Taccazze road, the sad and mournful procession was overtaken by a few Dervishes and some Arabs, who had returned on the night of the 10th to reconnoitre Gallabat, and when they found it abandoned they had followed one of the lines of retreat to find out what was going on and the reason the Abyssinian victory had not been followed up.”[107]
Ras Areya could have escaped, but died, with a few of his soldiers and the bravest of the King’s servants, defending all that remained of his liege. He “was last seen standing alongside the box containing the King’s body, after having expended all his ammunition, with his shield and sword in his hands.” He was speared by a Dervish from behind. The Khalifa made no attempt to invade Abyssinia in force after the battle of Gallabat.
Mr. Wylde received this information from a priest who was present and who escaped, though he was badly wounded. I was told that the King died in a small hut, attended by two monks and four nuns, who tried to keep his death secret, and that an old woman, a servant of the nuns, being captured later by the Dervishes, revealed, in order to save her life, the line of retreat of the party that was bearing away the King’s body.
The encounter took place at night, and such a scene in the moonlight seems more like an imagined passage in an epic than an occurrence in the closing years of the last century. I do not know whether the nuns accompanied Ras Areya, nor what their fate was.
The Dervishes cut off the King’s head and carried it to the Khalifa at Omdurman.
There are numerous graves around Gallabat of those who fell in the engagement. These are mounds, on which are laid agates brought from the bed of the Atbara. The tombs of the Soudanese have upon them a calabash, or more usually a pair, containing grain and water—presumably to satisfy the needs of the dead man’s shade. I do not know how the custom of solacing the deceased thus is reconciled with the doctrine of Islam.
CHAPTER XII
T valley of the River Atbara can now scarcely be regarded as unfamiliar country. Those who wish to read a most lively, interesting account of all the opportunities that it offers to the sportsman, should turn to Sir Samuel Baker’s book, “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia.” Our journey from Gallabat to Cairo by way of Kassala can be quite briefly described.
In reply to our inquiry we received a telegram from Mr. Flemming, who told us that a guide would meet our party at an appointed spot to show us the now disused and obscured road, and on the morning of February 23 we left Gallabat. About four hours’ travelling over flat, rocky country brought us, by an easy descent, to the Atbara. The banks here are low, and the bed is hard and clean, with tracts of shingle in it. The breadth of the course is about a hundred and fifty yards, and there were large pools of clear, good water. Many of them were deep. At this season of the year an insignificant stream trickles from pool to pool, and sometimes disappears altogether. There are big fish in these pools, and they need cautious handling. I took my tackle after we had pitched our camp, landed a two-pounder, and was “wool-gathering” a few moments afterwards when a powerful fish seized my bait with a dash and had me off my balance in an instant; result, a bruised knee and two hooks lost.
Next day Dupuis moved ahead of the party with his Soudanese “Shikari,” and in a couple of hours stalked and shot a gazelle and a bushbuck with a fine pair of horns; later in the day a haartebeest fell to his rifle. We saw great numbers of gazelles and ariels, and the country was full of game. The tracks left by many kinds of animals going to and from the river were visible in all directions. In addition, guinea-fowl were plentiful. The ground near the river was covered with dry grass, and there was a thin but continuous growth of
mimosa scrub. The baobab tree flourishes in this region.[108] We camped on the site of a village that had been laid waste by the Dervishes. No vestige of it remained but potsherds.
When the flesh of the animals was being cut into strips for use as biltong, a host of the carrion birds of all orders gathered around us— crows, hawks, vultures, and marabous. There was something disquieting and unpleasant in the presence of these groups of eagerly expectant scavengers, which faced us wherever we turned, and eyed us from every tree. That night the mosquitoes “rushed” my curtains and made a most successful raid, retreating at sunrise from the stricken—and bitten—field.
Shortly after we had started on February 25, I saw, at a little distance from camp, a piece of neatly made basketwork, and picked it up. Further on I found another. On making inquiry I was told that these were parts of game-traps. A log is buried in the ground, and a piece of cord with a noose at the loose end is attached to it. Then a hole is dug where tracks of game are seen, the noose is “set” in the hole, the basketwork is laid down to cover the trap, and the cord is hidden by a layer of earth. When a beast steps into the hole, the movement of the basketwork pulls the noose tight around its leg. The more the beast struggles, the firmer the grip becomes; finally, as a rule, the log is pulled up by its exertions, and the hobbled creature limps away, but is easily caught, and can then be killed as the Mohammedan rite requires.
HEAD OF A HAARTEBEEST
See p. 184.
‘LATES NILOTICUS’ CAUGHT WITH A TROUT-ROD.
See p 200
The track in this region is kept open by the cutting down of mimosa scrub. It lies upon “cotton soil” with fissures in it, large and small. The camels, which stare stupidly ahead while they walk, are constantly stumbling on account of these holes; their legs seem to have a marvellous instinct for finding them. Another difficulty was the descent and ascent in numerous little khors which run down to the river bed, and the camel is singularly clumsy when it leaves level ground. We pitched our camp at midday on the site of another deserted village, called Wad Abou Simam. Before that time each of my friends had shot a waterbuck. Very sensibly, the Anglo-Egyptian Administration imposes a fine on those who shoot the females of the larger antelopes.
I think we must have seen hundreds of thousands of guinea-fowl during the last two days’ journey. They were in the jungle of mimosa scrub and neblik and on the shingle in the river bed, where by reason of their colour they can scarcely be distinguished from the
stones; in fact, they swarmed in all directions. I took my gun into the dry course of the Atbara and sat down near an islet which was covered with very dry grass. This was a favourite place of refuge for the guinea-fowl. Dupuis drove them to the bank, where they rose, and flocks of them flew towards the little island. In this way I had some fine practice, and the birds were always useful in the larder. Travellers in this region should set up their mosquito-curtains with care. I was remiss about it that night, and the determined and virulent insects bit my scalp, face, and hands through the covering. The next evening I was more attentive to the matter, and formed a frame by means of four dhurra stalks. This arrangement, with draping, had all the advantages and some of the solid dignity of a four-post bedstead.
On the following day (February 26) we encamped at Sherafa. There was no incident worthy of mention during the journey. In the afternoon Dupuis and I saw a crocodile within range in the river bed, and fired at the same moment. The only visible result was that he scuttled into a pool and disappeared.
On the 27th Crawley brought down an ariel, but we had entered a district in which game was much rarer. We reached a well at a place called Tubra Cullah. This has been dug at the edge of a rock, the water was brackish, and there was no trough for the camels. We had now left the course of the Atbara, but had, fortunately, brought with us water from the pools which was sufficient for the men. On this day the temperature rose to 107° F. in the shade. The road, which had at that time been cleared, ended at Tubra Cullah, and here we were met by the guide whom Mr. Flemming had sent to show us the unrepaired track between this place and Sofi.
HADENDOWA, CAMEL DRIVER.
See p 186
See p 186
On the following day we marched to Goratia. Our guide had misinformed us as to the distance, which was much greater than we had expected. The heat was scarcely endurable, and none of our marches had been more fatiguing. How we longed for the coolness and freshness of the lakeside! Close to the village was a well with good water and troughs for the camels, which had not drunk for nearly forty-eight hours. We found the inhabitants very willing to help our men. While we were passing through Goratia the women within the huts warbled their welcome in the usual manner and with unmistakable enthusiasm. We learned that when our party was first sighted, a rumour spread that we were Abyssinian raiders, and the non-combatants rushed to the shelter of their homes. The relief of the villagers was evidently very great when they found that we were English people.
The following instance may serve to show the difficulty which British administrators have in suppressing the slave traffic.
DINKA BOY, CAMEL DRIVER.
A certain man, a native of the White Nile region, appeared one morning before Colonel G. at Rosaires and said that while he was taking a convoy of slaves into Abyssinia, he had been stopped by the sheikh of a village in the Colonel’s district. This sheikh, he asserted, took possession of the slaves, and bound him and his companion, to whom they belonged. In order to keep what he had captured and destroy those who could bring him to justice, the sheikh had the two slave-dealers brought to a precipice and cast over it. Ono was killed, the other escaped with whole limbs. Then he repaired to the Governor’s quarters to report the matter
Colonel G. ordered the sheikh to attend and bring the slaves that he had taken. The sheikh, astounded to hear that the Moudir[109] had learned what he had done, attributed his misfortune to the Will of God with the usual phrase “Inshallah,”[110] and started for the Moudirieh accompanied by the slaves. On the way he consoled himself with the words, “God will help me” (Rabonna effrighi).
While he was upon the journey he met two native merchants returning to their village, and immediately he concluded that Allah had heard his prayer. “Um del Allah!” said he, “God is good.” He caused the merchants to be bound, and then he had the slaves brought before him, and made them all swear upon the Koran that these two men were they who had raided the village and carried the people away captive. And the merchants were forced to follow him with the slaves.
When the sheikh arrived at the Moudirieh, the Governor ordered him to deliver up the men in whose possession he had found the slaves—and the sheikh forthwith had the two merchants led forward. Colonel G. was in a dilemma. Evidently the raider who had complained to him was telling the truth, but all the slaves swore that they knew nothing of the man. Questioning was of no avail, and did not shake their evidence. Then the Moudir, turning suddenly to a little girl, asked her, “Who told you to say that these two accused men raided your village and took you away?” The little girl instantly pointed to the sheikh and answered, “Please, sir, that man.”
This decided the matter Some time after, the body of the slavedealer’s companion was found. I did not hear what befell the sheikh, but the Moudir was not a man to be trifled with, and I have no doubt that justice was done.
The sheikh of Goratia came into camp to greet us, and afterwards sent us hot coffee, which was excellent. It is the most refreshing drink of all after a tiring journey in the baking sunshine.
In this village we found a man who declared that he could act as guide to the junction of the Atbara and the River Salaam, a point which is of interest in connection with the all-important problem of water-storage and distribution. It has not been sketched or mapped —indeed, I believe that no European has yet succeeded in reaching it, though the British officers in the Soudan have been eager to discover the spot. My two companions arranged to start on the following morning and endeavour to make a rough survey of the place.
At Goratia I obtained a photograph which shows clearly the amulet worn by almost all the Soudanese. The youth who wore it had been married about a week, and the scars on his back illustrate a singular custom among the people. Sir Samuel Baker has described it.
“There is but little lovemaking among the Arabs. The affair of matrimony usually commences by a present to the father of the girl, which, if accepted, is followed by a similar advance to the girl herself, and the arrangement is completed. All the friends of both parties are called together for the wedding; pistols and guns are fired off, if possessed. There is much feasting, and the unfortunate bridegroom undergoes the ordeal of whipping by the relations of his bride, in order to test his courage. Sometimes this punishment is exceedingly severe, being inflicted with the coorbash or whip of hippopotamus hide, which is cracked vigorously about his ribs and back. If the happy husband wishes to be considered a man worth having, he must receive the chastisement with an expression of enjoyment; in which case the crowds of women in admiration again raise their thrilling cry. After the rejoicings of the day are over, the bride is led in
